


Not Okay

by AmyNChan



Series: Miraculous Angst [8]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post Reveal, which is why I tagged all the square
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9722090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: Alternatively Titled:  Stop PretendingHey, it’s not my fault I actually finished this one on a sappy holiday.  That was entirely coincidental.





	

“It’s okay.”

Sometimes he wonders just how true that is, but other times he wonders just how many times he can say it before even he thinks it’s hypocritical.

But she knows.  She’s gone through a lot just to be able to see past his mask, even when he’s not looking at her.  She’s worked it out and listened and spoken with him. She’s taken the time to know what makes him happy and what makes him sad.  She’s invested in him so much that now she just knows.  Just like she knows now.

“It’s okay.”

He’s repeating it now.  There’s no one here who will believe him.  She’s here.  She’s here and she knows.  Just as she always does.

“It’s… I’m okay.”

She reaches out to him.  Holds his hand.  He wants to pull it closer.  But he’s afraid.  Her hand is warm.  It’s small in his, but he can’t help but feel like it’s one of the biggest parts his world.

Her fingers wrap around his hand to hold his palm.  Her thumb lands softly on the back of his hand.

His finger twitches.

“No, you’re not.”

Her words are true.  He knows it, but he doesn’t want to say it.  Saying it would make it more of a reality.  He wants to pretend he’s okay.  Just for a little bit longer.

He looks down.  How did it come to be like this?  Why couldn’t everything just be okay?  Why couldn’t he _make it_ be okay?  Why?

Why can’t it be okay?

Her warm hand tethers him, but such thoughts feel traitorous.  He doesn’t know if he’s grateful for her presence or if he resents it now.  The fact that she knows.  The fact that she can _see_.  The fact that she would make him face reality when all he wants to do is pretend.

She reaches for his other hand.  He lets her.  Her fingers wrap themselves around him gently.  He does not resist.  She turns towards him.

“Adrien…please.  This isn’t okay.”

He wants to pull away.  He wants to pull her closer.  He wants to tell her to stop telling him these things.  He wants to listen to her speak.  He wants to pretend everything’s okay.  He wants everything to really be okay.

But if he stops pretending…  if he acknowledges the truth…  how much worse will it get?

That’s more terrifying to him than not being okay.

“Adrien…”

Gentle.  She’s so gentle.  He wants to trust her.  But it’s hard.  Her hands are holding his.  But loosely.  So loosely.

Like if he moves, she, too, will be swept away.

The thought crashes into his mind, filling it with an unsavory sight.  In a blink, she can take her hands away.  She can give him that sad, hopeless smile he’s gotten so many times.  She can give up on him just as everyone else has.  She can leave him behind.  Just like maman did.  Just like peré did.  Just like that.  She can take the warmth with her and leave him alone.  Cold and alone.

The thought sets lead in his stomach.  He looks to her, blinks to make sure she hasn’t left.

In a blink, she can leave.  In a blink, she can leave him behind in his pretend world.

And it really wouldn’t be okay then.

Tears well up in his eyes.  Life is so unfair.  It’s not kind.  It’s not warm.  It’s not happy and it’s not pleasant.  He curls his fingers around hers.

She hasn’t left.  But she can.  So, so easily.

It was easy for maman to walk out the door.

It was easy for peré to abandon all emotion to ambition.

It was easy for them.

It could be just as easy for her.

She pulls a hand away.  He knows his eyes are wide.  He knows he’s having a hard time getting oxygen into his lungs.  All he can feel is the breath he’s choking on.  All he knows is the retreat of her warmth.

He watches her hand as it leaves his.  He expects it to return to her side, to help her walk away from him and his issues.  But it doesn’t.  It lifts higher and higher until she’s placing a gentle palm on his face.  Her thumb pushes the tear away from his cheek.

“Adrien, please…  It’s not okay.”

He knows.  He knows.  He pulls his hand up to cover hers on his face.  Please don’t leave.

She stands there and waits.  She looks at him.  She waits.  She doesn’t leave.  Not after one minute.  Not after five.  Nor ten.  Twenty.

She stays.  She stays while he cries.  She stays while he can’t bear to make a sound.  She stays while he can’t move.

She stays.  And she’s warm.  And she’s _here_.

And he’s not okay.

But feeling broken, feeling sad, feeling so not okay.  In that, he hopes that he doesn’t have to pretend to be okay after that.  He hopes that one day he’ll be okay.

And he hopes that she’ll stay long enough to see that happen.

She whispers in his ear that she will.

**Author's Note:**

> I put this in Miraculous Angst because I feel there's no true resolution. He'll be saddled with these fears for quite a while, and Marinette can't do anything about it. Everything's gotta come from our sunshine child.


End file.
